While we had our supper in one part of the room some monks had theirs in another, and it became obvious that we should have no privacy, so we had our things removed to a small room which had been allotted to Mr. Chiao, which was very hot but clean, and which possessed some rings on the door that we could padlock and yet get fresh air. Mr. Chiao was kept busy writing for a long time, and we begged him to find out what they considered the best route to Seoul. However, they said that none of their number had ever been there, and that the monastery to which we proposed going next day was forty miles distant over a lofty pass, so we had to give it up. We were glad to have Mr. Chiao sleeping in the verandah just outside our door to guard us. They showed the rapacity which is said to characterise the Buddhist monks in Korea, and we heard none too good an account of them. The night stillness was only disturbed by the croaking of frogs in quite a different tongue from that of European ones, and the periodic beating of the fish gong which betokens the hour of prayer. In the morning we were up betimes and off before 6 o’clock; already the monks were busy outside spreading great heaps of grain on matting, perhaps in preparation for sowing. It was a perfect morning as we wended our way down the valley for about three miles of the same way we had come the night before, and soon we left the lovely valley behind us. Our pathway was full of funny little green frogs spotted with black, and with their underside brilliant scarlet. Heavy clouds hung over the precipitous ravine through which lay our way, and we soon outdistanced our ponies as we tramped over a rough path surrounded by most fascinating flowers. Besides those mentioned above there were glades full of large cyclamen, white crocus and wood anemones, purple iris, saxifrage, &c.